I AM a Hockey Mom

I'm not exactly sporty or athletic or coordinated.  In fact, I would say that I am the exact opposite of sporty and athletic and coordinated.  I believe I suffer from a hand/eye coordination problem.  I've been known to miss catching keys that have been thrown to me from two feet away.  I've been known to lose my breath half way up a flight of stairs.  I've been known to (often) trip over my very own feet.

And this is nothing new.  I HATED sports in school.  Like, even bolding and capitalizing that word does not show the extent of my school sports loathing.   To answer the question:  I don't know how I can miss kicking the ball that is right in front of me.  I don't know.  Okay?  I just don't know.  It boggles my mind too.  I mean, I line the ball up with my foot and I look away for a split second and it's almost as if someone moves the ball...

But I also must confess that because I a) didn't enjoy sports and b) am a perfectionist, I never really put much effort into it either.  I kind of have this *life motto* that if I'm not perfect at something right away, I should just give up and try something else instead.  I am, for instance, very good at reading.  And so I continue to do that.  I also think my voice sounds great in the shower and the car, so I continue to belt it out while sitting in traffic. 

All of this to say that I really just didn't *get* sports.  I have on occasion fallen asleep while "watching" hockey.  I think it's the sound of the announcers voices and the skates on the ice and the crowd cheering, it lulls me to sleep like a lullaby (or melatonin, come to think of it.)

I certainly can appreciate the hard work and determination that goes into any sporty goal and I can well imagine how rewarding it must feel to be part of a winning team or to accomplish a life long dream.  It's just never been anything I've experienced before and so I can imagine as long as I want, I'll never know how an athlete feels (although, sometimes when I have to run to my car when it's pouring rain, so I sort of get it...)

When Q was six or so, he heard his dad and I talking about starting a joint savings account for him so he would have a little something for post secondary education. 

He said:  What if I don't go to University?

Me:  Oh you'll be going.  Whether it's trade school or college or university, you'll be going.

Q:  It's just that...well...I'm pretty sure that I'll be playing in the NHL by then, so would it be okay if I went to University after that??

It was then we decided to put Q in skating lessons and over the next two years we watched him glide through four levels of skating with such determination.  He went from falling and stumbling and tripping and well...falling...to the skating coach saying she had taught him all she could and it was time for power skating (which, btw, is exactly what it sounds like...lengths of the rink, doing squats, in skates).  It was an inspiration to watch him set goals for himself and then work hard to meet them.  It made my heart proud.  I was a skate mom.  Smiling in the stands while he skated backwards and forwards and sideways and pivot. pivot. pivot.

But now...

Now...

...I'm a Hockey Mom. 

(respectful awe-filled pause)

(maybe some angels singing)

I go to practices at 6:00am.  (OMGoodness...it's actually a thing)

I spend weekends at the rink.

I cheer in the stands until my throat gets sore.  And forget about it when he scores.  I lose my mind. 

I yell helpful instructions like, "GET IT OUT" and "KEEP IT IN" and "SKATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and lately, "HUSTLE BOYS!!!"

I know all the names of all the kids and yell their names out sometimes too, just to keep it real and encourage them all equally.  I know most of the rules (and make up the rest...they're fondly referred to as the *Mom Rules* - For example: If they've really hustled, it's not icing because I mean...they skated all the way to the other end...they're tired.  And also, the losing team - us, usually - should get an extra player to even things up).

We've been on a losing streak and a short winning streak and then another losing streak.  No matter how much I cheer.  Sometimes they just don't listen to my direction.  We have a great group of families this year and we are so invested in our kids.  Not necessarily in winning, but in life experience.  We cheer when they win.  We cheer when they lose.  We cheer when they try really, really hard.  We love them whether they win or lose.  We feed them whether they win or lose.  We're good like that. 

I've learned more this year about sports than I have my whole life.  Yes, the rules of the game, but also something so much more important.  I've learned what it means to be part of a team for these kids. 

Becoming a team is so much more than just a few kids on the ice.  It's being a part of something that's bigger than yourself.  And that's a new concept for kids.  It gives them a community. 

It's determination.  It's passion.  It's skill.  It's selflessness.  It's encouragement.  It teaches consequences and follow-through. 

The kid I see on the ice is a different kid than the one I see going to school.  He's confident, he's outspoken, he's assertive.  He sees what he needs to do and he does it.  He skates until his lungs burn.  He works together with the other boys towards a common goal.  Watching some of them play together is like watching poetry.  Poetry!  Can you believe it?  Like a finely choreographed poetic dance. 

Gah!  I get goosebumps.

And there is nothing more rewarding to watch. 

I get it now.  I get the valuable lessons learned on the ice, or the court, or the field.  I am so grateful to be able to experience it with Q. 

I can say with pride that I am a Hockey Mom. 

And who knows, after watching the determination my kid has - he might just make the NHL one day.  And then I'll be a Professional Hockey Mom, which I think pays a bit more.  Haha.

In the meantime, we're probably going to get our arses handed to us at the tournament next weekend, but dang, it'll sure be worth it. 

Drowning

I feel like I'm totally failing at this whole parenting gig right now.  Like I'm in way over my head.  Like it's time for the final exam and I didn't study.  

Everything up to this point has been relatively easy in comparison.  I mean, the first two to three years, you basically succeed just by keeping them alive.  They smile, they cuddle, they hit the milestones close to the appropriate times and you're golden.  The next few years, you teach the pleases and the thank yous and the basic math and alphabet, and again - you feel as though you're a pretty freaking good parent.  

Then they hit their tweens and you're all like "what the eff am I doing?"

It's almost comical that I was blessed with my son, because he is the complete opposite of me. I love him more than life itself, don't get me wrong.  It's just that I find I'm scrambling to find ways to relate to him.  If I had my way, we'd read a book together and then talk about how it made us feel.  That seems like a successful bonding experience to me.  

I tried this.  It did not work.  I started reading Q 'Harry Potter' and we got about 3 1/2 pages in before I threw the book across the room in frustration because I couldn't hear my own voice over his whining and complaining about how boring this dumb book was.  I guess he was talking about his feelings regarding the book, though, wasn't he?

Here's the thing about me...if I'm not super good at something, I give up.  Skiing, rollerblading, university, dating - just a small list of things I stopped doing because I sucked.  I can't just give up being a parent.  Nor do I want to, just to be clear...I don't want to give up.  It just my thing, so I don't really know what to do with this drowning feeling besides just feel sorry for myself and wallow in self pity.

I can see Q slowly withdrawing.  I mean, he's never been one to talk about his feelings, but I can see that we have nothing in common that's bond worthy.  And that really scares me.  How do I connect with him as he gets older if I'm struggling to connect with him now?  I find myself riddled with guilt because I'm just not doing enough.  I feel like I'm nagging and yelling more than teaching and inspiring and loving.  

I feel like I've robbed Q of the kind of childhood I had planned for him.  Two parents together, lots of siblings to play with.  Summers filled with family road trips and weekends filled with family BBQ's.  He doesn't get any of that.  I wonder when he grows up what memories of his childhood he'll have.  Me nagging him to help bring in the groceries from the car, because it's just him and me and we're a team (to which he responds...."if we're a team, mommy....we're a horrible team")

I have realized two things:  

My sole purpose in life really is raising Q to be a successful, happy, well rounded person.  I am devoting all my time towards this goal.  Is that wrong?  I mean, what about me?  Do I count at all? Should I count? Or do I count when he's 18 and my "job" is done? Hmmmmm......

Secondly, if I can't connect with my child then I need to change my approach.  If he relates to sports - then I need to (gulp) become more 'sporty'.  For those of you who know me, you know that I am the least athletic person in the world.  I have a very serious disconnect with my hand/eye coordination and it makes things like kicking a ball more humorous than anything else.  (Well, humorous for others...frustrating for me).  But I understand that if this is the way I need to spend more quality time with my son, then it has to be done.  I'm currently looking for a lazy boy shaped bicycle seat for my larger than average rear end, if anyone knows of one.  We'll go for hikes.  We'll kick a ball around at the park.  I'll have to save the painting nails and braiding hair for my niece, I suppose.

I guess the biggest challenge I have with parenting is that you don't really know how good a job you've done until they've grown.  And isn't it too late by then?

So this Mother's Day, I'm reflecting on how I can alter my parenting skills now so I don't lose my child to video games and the teenage abyss.  Am I alone?  Do other parents feel this way?  How do you relate to your child(ren)?  Am I obsessive?

Because seriously, being an obsessive, Type A, worrier sounds nothing like me.

At all.

But honestly, this Mother's Day, I'm also feeling so blessed that I've been given the opportunity to be my Q's momma.  I guess that's part of my fear - how do I give this awesome gift justice?  

Now go hug your momma.  She's done a lot of worrying over you.  The least you could do is give her some huggin'.

I Have a Tween

(which is nowhere near as inspirational as "I have a Dream...")

 

I've always thought boys are waaaaaaaaaaay easier than girls to raise.  Boys are a little more difficult during the toddler years because they're so active and have so much energy, but once you find a way to channel that little something extra, you're golden.  Easy sailing for the next 15 years.  I've also been so blessed because Q has been such an easy kid.  I mean, I can count on one hand the number of out of control temper tantrums he's had.  He's always been very active - he started walking (and by walking, I mean running) at 9 months -  but by keeping him busy in soccer and hockey, parenting him has been a breeze.  He's polite, remembers his pleases and thank yous, does what he's asked (usually with me only having to ask twice...haha), and he has a very strong sense of right and wrong. 

 

This whole tween thing has knocked me over on my ass. 

 

At first I thought there was some sort of outside source that was influencing my sweet little angel.  Then I thought he needed a nap.  Or maybe he was just hungry.  I thought of blaming his dad.

 

But this nasty attitude is just not going away.

 

So, I googled the symptoms....

 

...and I found out I have a tween.

 

And that this is...

 

(pause for effect)

 

...normal.

 

*sob*

 

I feel sick to my stomach.  My heart actually physically hurts.  I do not recognize this mopey, insolent, miserable person living in my house.  I mean, don't get me wrong - sometimes, I see the kid that I know and love and we have some really great times.  But other times, he's a monster.  Last night, during a calm spell, I said to him..."Q, be the kind, funny kid that you are deep inside, the kid that everyone wants to be around.  Don't be the mean, grumpy kid."  To which he responded, "I know, but I just don't think twice.  It just comes out."

 

I get that he's starting to *find himself* and that can be a daunting task for anyone, let alone a 9 year old boy.  I get that the testosterone is starting to flow, and he doesn't know what to do with all that man-ness yet because he's...well...9.

 

Is there a solution?  Because I seriously don't think I can handle this attitude 24/7.

 

There bloody better be.  I think there is...

 

First of all, we had a visit recently with Nana and Grandpa.  Grandpa tried everything to cheer Q up and when nothing else worked, he put him to work.  After Q moved firewood for about 15 minutes, it was like he was a different kid.  He was talkative (no grunting), he was smiling (no perma-frown) and his eyes weren't rolling at everything I said.

 

Secondly, I am giving Q more responsibility around the house.  He wants to act like a moody teenager, well then I'm going to give him moody teenager chores.  Active chores like taking out the garbage and organizing the recycling...

 

Actually, I'm kind of at a loss for some more active manly chores...so if anyone has any ideas, throw them my way, please!!

 

Hand in hand with more responsibility comes more serious consequences.  I've explained to Q that he's the man of the family and men need to take care of their household.  There are no more time outs as punishment - there are privileges that get taken away, there are video games that disappear. 

 

We are going to be more structured.  We're going to have routines around here so Q knows what to expect and what is expected of him and for him. 

 

Of course, sports start up in the next few weeks and that will help his energy levels.  He's going to busy almost every day with some sporting event or another, and this will help channel that wayward testosterone.

 

To Re-Cap:

 

1.  Put him to work

2. Give him more responsibility

3. Give him more serious consequences

4. Create structure and routine

5. Lots and lots of organized sports

 

I'll keep you updated.  Hopefully, we'll both make it through this phase without going me mad myself.

 

Now if I could just figure out how to stay on top of him eating me out of house and home, because oh. my. goodness. the kid is hungry all. the. time. 

Happy Birthday to Q

My little bug turned nine last week.  Nine whole years of wonderfulness filled with Q.  I cannot imagine my life without him.  He makes everything better in a million different ways.

 

But....

 

I'm having a really hard time with Q turning 9. 

 

And going into grade 4.

 

I'm mourning the loss of my baby.  My toddler.  My little boy.

 

Because now he is 9.

 

His feet smell (worse than before)...

 

He'd rather hang out with his friends than with his momma.

 

He says I'm weird.  There was a time when he wanted to marry me - okay....so I guess it's a good thing he doesn't want to do that anymore - but still how do you go from that to *weird*?

 

He has opinions on everything from his hair (it's long) to his clothes (baggy). 

 

I'm flooded with memories of him being a baby lately, and it makes me so sad that I can barely remember the smell of his sweet skin, his new voice, his soft skin.  I miss holding him in my arms and rocking him to sleep.

 

Plus, he's going through this really annoying phase (Eeps, at least I hope it's a phase...).  It's like his goal every day is to annoy me.  He sass talks me.  He's loud. 

 

I guess that he's going through this little thing called...growing up.  Whether he or I like it or not, this is a process we cannot ignore or think won't happen.  I read somewhere that boys go through a testosterone surge at 2 (sooooo funny, my friends son started grunting everything at 2 - like from "owwww, I stubbed my toe" to "hi! how are you?") so maybe they go through another one at 9?

 

I am no longer the center of my son's universe.  I know it's normal for this to happen.  It's even really good for this to happen.  I knew it was coming all along.  But nothing could prepare me for it.  Especially because he is still the center of my universe. 

 

I am so dreading the teen years. 

 

At least I cannot legally leave him alone yet.

 

At least he can't drive.

 

Or drink.

 

Or do long division...

 

I guess we've got a while to go yet. 

 

And he still sleeps with his favourite blanket...

 

So, no matter what, he'll always be my baby.  Even though he can't see through his hair...

 

Happy Birthday to my beautiful (baby) boy!!

Parenting - The Trouble with Growing up

Parenting gets harder as Q gets older. I thought it would get easier, and I suppose in some ways it has.

There are no midnight feedings or messy diapers. There are no temper tantrums or toddlers with boundless energy. Babies and toddlers are just sooooo needy. I mean, Q can feed himself and dress himself. He can go *potty* without assistance. 

So that’s something, right? 

The thing about the younger years that I like is the amount of control you have over the circumstances and events surrounding your child. You can protect them from outside forces. You can control who has influence over them, by limiting/screening what T.V. they watch, who they hang out with. Even so called “un-controllable” temper tantrums are really within control, because you can shut them away in their bedroom until they stop being ridiculous. You can control their behaviour with consequences and discipline. 

I think I used control at least 5 times in that paragraph…do you think I have control issues? 

No. Me neither. (I think by *control*, I mean *protect*…that sounds better…) 

The point I’m getting at is that as your children get older, I’m finding, you begin to lose control over their lives. And I guess this is the natural progression of aging. I suppose it’s healthy. I’m just not sure how much I like it. 

Q has a new friend, a neighbourhood boy. This boy I do not like. At all. But he’s 8. How do you tell an 8 year old he cannot play with your child because he’s a rotten little shit? It’s kind of impossible. He yells at his parents (they lead by example, always yelling at him…), he’s rude to his little brother (“Move your fat head”), he’s impolite and mean. 

He comes to play video games with Q – I would much rather they play in my house than theirs – so I can….uhhhh….supervise… While playing video games, his dialog with my son is much similar to this, “Awww, what are you doing? You’re so dumb. Do you even know how to play this game? That was a stupid move. This is so boring. I hate this.” And on and on and on it goes. When he goes home, I tell Q he needs to stand up for himself when this kid says these things. I don’t really know how he does this. Admittedly, ‘don’t say mean things to me, it hurts my feelings,’ sounds lame, even to me. I’m torn between refusing to let this kid play with my beloved son and acknowledging that as an only child, Q needs other kids to play with. This one just happens to be the only one we can find… 

Not wanting to appear to be an uber-controlling mom and in an attempt to try not to embarrass my child, I keep my mouth shut. Most of the time. Occasionally, I cannot bite my tongue any longer and have to say something. Like in this instance: 

Neighbourhood kid: Q!! You’re such a PUSSY. 

Say what, now? Are you effing kidding me? This child is 8. 8. Eight!!!! While I’m sure he didn’t know what the word really meant because he looked at me like “what’s your problem, lady? I called him a cat…” I’m still so shocked that this word was even in his vocabulary. Q just the other week stuck up his pointer finger and asked me if that meant he was giving someone the finger, by pointing at them. (Yes, yes, it is…by the way…).

What is going on in this child’s life that he knows words like this exist? I’m still shocked. 

Me: (Internal Dialog…) Listen here, you little shit. A word like that comes out of your mouth again towards my son and I will kick you so hard, you’ll land in next Friday. Got it? 

ME: (External Dialog…) Excuse me? We DO NOT use words like that in our home. Do you understand me? You use it again, and you’re going home. Got it?

The kid just looked at me. The thing is, I kept my voice low and calm. He’s so used to being yelled at, he didn’t know how to react. He kept his mouth shut after that, and each subsequent time he’s been in the house. He keeps looking at me too. So I stare him down. That’s okay, right?? 

After he left, my kid says, “I think you should write a letter to his parents. He shouldn’t say things like that!!” Oh, how I love Q. So eager, just like me, to make sure everything in life is put right, with no loose ends. I did consider it, but what were his parents going to do? Yell at him? Give him a pat on the back? Chances are this horrible word came from them. In the end, I figured my method was much more effective. 

I got to experience it this time, but what about the next time…when I’m not there? What happens then? I know that I have to trust that the parenting I’ve done thus far will sustain my child through these events. How? 

• My son knows what’s right and what’s wrong: He knows. I’ve modelled it. I’ve guided him when he’s been wrong. He has had to endure consequences when he steps out of line. And while a conscience isn’t built into children, a strong knowledge of right and wrong somehow helps one grow. I need to remember this. 

• We’ve built the communication lines: Q can tell me anything. We’ve built this road over the past almost 9 years. He tells me the little things, the big things and everything in between. There is no filter. And truly, for an 8 year old, there are no little things, are there? Everything is pretty significant. We talk things through. We rationalize, we debate, we come to a resolution. Every time. 

• I’m a safe haven: Well, first of all…I’m his momma, so you would think it obvious that I’m a safe haven, but is it? I’ve created a non-judgemental environment for Q. We have no gender bias, no race bias. We have guidelines and routines and rules. This allows him to bring home new/different ideas and share them with me, without fear of my reaction. This way, we get to figure things out together. He doesn’t have to go to his friends to find out what this means or that means. He can come to me and KNOW he’s getting the truth. And, he know I love him. Always have, alway will NO MATTER WHAT. I tell him often. Like, all the time how much I love him. 

• I have fear on my side: Seriously, I use everything I can to my advantage. We’re watching COPS – see, cops catch you every time. This is why you don’t do anything illegal. They will catch you. We’re reading the news, and someone has died of a drug overdose – see, this is why you only take drugs that come from a doctor for a specific reason. Otherwise, you die. 

And then I remind myself that a mustard seed is soooooo veeeeeeeeeryyyyy tiny, but once planted it grows and grows and grows. I believe it’s much the same with Q. I have planted the seed of goodness, and I know it will grow and he will grow into someone amazing. I also hope, that by allowing this boy into our home, I am planting a seed in him as well and one day good will prevail over evil. 

How do you sleep at night, knowing that this is just the beginning? What are we going to do, once they’re teenagers in high school or they move away for college? 

How do we control them then????

Parenting Advice - Single Mommy Style

I have a wonderful, beautiful, amazing friend who has a daughter who is predisposed to learning languages.  By the time she was one, she was spouting full sentences and saying words like, "Stethoscope".  She is now almost eight and she speaks fluent English, Croatian, and French.  Her next language will be German, she says, because it's so useful.  My beautiful, amazing friend and her husband would smile to themselves and think, "Ahhhhh, we know how to teach our children languages!" and then they had a boy.  Now, I'm not saying it's because he's a boy...but Q was slow with his words too.  Anyways, my friend and her husband now realize their daughter is amazing with languages and they had something to do with it, because they are her parents after all, but she had the most to do with it.  I tell this little story because I have a brilliant little boy (and yes, I am a little biased, but hear me out...)  I can list on one hand the number of times he has had a temper tantrum in 8 years.  You know when they have to do something by the count to 3, well I have never, ever reached 3 - neither Q nor I know what happens when I get there.  He tells me when he does something wrong before I find out, because he has a conscience.  He has such a gentle demeanor with other children who are either less fortunate or who have special needs.  While I think I'm a great mom, I also know that a lot of these qualities are *just* Q.  He most likely would be exactly as he is, whether I was his mommy or not. 

However, I am going to take some of the credit because I have spent the last 8 years with him, and it's not always a walk in the park.  Without further ado, here is my advice for how to raise a little boy as a single mommy...

1.  Tell him you love him.  Like, every single time you think of it, say it.  This might mean that you say it 20 times a day, and that's okay.  One of the many reasons my relationship with his dad didn't work out was that he couldn't say (nor show, really) that he loved me.  His response to my question would always be, "Well, I'm here, aren't I?"  Knowing you're loved is one of the most amazing feelings in the world.  It makes you feel safe, secure and well...loved, for lack of a better word.  And, you never, ever, ever know when may be the last time you get to say it.  So say it, and say it often.

2.  Cuddle.  If you have a cuddler, take advantage of every single minute.  One day they won't want to cuddle anymore (and that makes my heart ache), but as my child turns 8, I see there is no way to stop  him from growing.

3.  Tell him you're proud of him.  Yes, of course, when he brings home a test that he did really well on, by all means tell him then...but I'm talking about when he's standing there and he remembers to say please or thank you or he does something the first time you ask or when he tells the truth when a lie would have been easier.  Tell him you're proud of the person he's becoming.

4.  Let them talk.  And talk, and talk and talk and talk.  Q went on a road trip with my brother and sister in law last month and I laughed out loud when A said he talked the whole 5 hours it took to get there.  First, it means he's comfortable, because he doesn't do that with everyone, but secondly...it might not seem like anything important to you, but it sure is important to him.  If you listen, really listen, to all their little *nothings* they'll come to you with all their *somethings*.  

5.  Give them choices.  This sometimes bites me in the butt, because it takes patience, and sometimes one of the choices doesn't end up working, but for the most part, giving him two choices works really well.  It works because he feels involved, but it also works because when he has the choice to do the good thing or the bad thing, he recognizes it as a choice.  For instance:  You can put your toys away where they belong, or I can put your toys away in the garbage.  It's your choice.  

6.  Encourage alone time.  This is actually also 'Have a sibling', but like me, not always feasible.  It's exhausting trying to entertain him all the time and get everything else done around the house.  He's going through a you're-not-entertaining-me-so-I'm-bored phase right now, so I really understand how important it is for him to be able to entertain himself.  What is he going to do when he's 20 if he needs me to entertain him???

7.  Let them use technology.  Our children are going to have jobs that we don't even know exist yet.  Technology, whether we like it or not, is not going away.  I have a co-worker who always jokes that he never thought computers were going to catch on, as he types with his two index fingers.  Oh, it's caught on.  My child can use my iPhone just as well as I.  He knows how to record series on our PVR and I don't.  He can log onto my computer and access his websites.  And these are basic skills that a whole lot of children his age do not have.  When I volunteered in his class, some children didn't know how to even hold the mouse.  These children will be left behind.  Give your child a head start now.  Give them a time limit, monitor what sites they're seeing, obviously, but do not kid yourself by thinking computers aren't going to "catch on".

8.  Sports, sports, sports.  I have a couple of friends with teenage boys and these kids are really, really good kids.  Of course, it's the parenting (!) but it's also because these kids have been involved in sports from an early age.  They're too busy playing sports to get into any trouble.  Their friends are too busy playing sports to get into any trouble.  They're having fun, they're busy and they have positive roll models.  Win-Win-Win.

9.  Make memories.  One day, my son will be a man with smelly, hairy feet.  Ugh, it makes me shudder.  But I want him to have memories with me now, that make him the man he is to become.  I was thinking the other day of all the opportunities my son has had that many are not as fortunate.  We've been to Hawaii, the Dominican Republic, DisneyLand, Science World, The Aquarium, the Capilano suspension bridge, fireworks, the beach, zoos, day trips to Seattle, movie date nights.  My heart swells with joy when he says, "Mommy, remember when we...."    

10.  This is my favourite...

I tried it the other day, and it was awesome.  It really worked.  It even freaked me out a little bit!

Oh, and I have more...but 10 is such a nice, even number.  Maybe I'll do a part 2.  Any parenting tips, either for boys or for single mothers or girls or not single mothers that I should include???

A Great Imagination, Slightly Delusional or Crazy?

You decide.  

Because I'm a little too close to the subject matter to be an impartial judge.  You see, I am the subject matter.  

I don't know if you remember, but a few months back I mentioned a story about a family that goes to Q's school that just broke my heart.  The family had been on a road trip, had a terrible accident where horribly, the mother passed away, leaving two small daughters and a husband behind.  I almost cried when I saw the father in crutches *walk* the two children to school, each in their own wheelchair, after a month or so in the hospital. It was such a stark reminder of how horrible things could happen in the blink of an eye.

As the months passed, I thought often of the girls and how they were faring in the aftermath of probably the most horrid thing ever to happen to anyone.  I cannot even imagine losing my mom at all, let alone at such an early age in such an awful way.  How were they healing without their mother?  Was someone there to take care of them?  How was their father?  How was he dealing with raising two little girls without the love of his life?  The mother of his children?

And then I got to thinking what would it be like to date a widower?  How would it be different from dating a divorcee or someone who's never been married?  How would it be to become the step mother of two little girls who had lost their mother?  I wonder...

I know, so many questions!!

Here's the thing...I thought about him and them so much that when I saw him at the school yesterday, I expected him to recognize me.  I would daydream about him.  I saw him, I smiled and he looked straight through me to his daughter.  Well, of course he did.  He doesn't know me from a hole in the ground.  In his world, I don't even exist.  It was embarrassing.  Thankfully no one saw.  Thankfully, I didn't wave and call him darling.  I mean, seriously, what am I?  How so very *ambulance-chaser* of me.  I feel so guilty for even considering it.

My heart has been broken (numerous times over) by men who don't even really know who I am, or know me only to say hello and then carry on with their day.  My imagination sees a man, and creates a story - a love story - around them and me.  It's epic.  It's fabulous.  It's a fairy tale.  It's my imagination.  I've begun to think that no real story will ever be good enough for me because I've created so many ridiculous ones in my head.  

A few angry uterus days ago, I ran into three male colleagues who were trying to figure out why I was in such a bad mood (duh...) and one said, "Oh, I think she's worried about finding a date for her brother's wedding!"  They all started laughing and I just couldn't deal with the smug boy's club any longer, so I said, "Gentlemen, until I find a man who can offer me more than I can give myself, I am quite content to be single, thank you very much."  I know, right?  One of those things that just comes out of your mouth and after you're all like, "Wow.  That totally rocked!!!"  Anyways, one of them replied, "Sweetheart, you'll never find one like that."  And they ALL laughed!!!

**Gasp**

Are you kidding me?

I've heard it said that the worst thing that the Women's Liberation movement did for society was allow men to remain boys.  Why must a man provide for his family when his wife is perfectly capable of doing so?  Why must he get off his ass to pay the bills, cut the grass, take out the garbage when he has a woman who does it?  There is no incentive for men to step up.  Women, we've essentially won nothing.  Men are sitting on the couch, playing video games completely oblivious to the war and we're still fighting.   So, while I might be crazy, I'd prefer to live in my imagination, where men save women, boys grow up to be gentlemen, and women get to be ladies.

It's All Gonna Be OK (right?)

So, my kid.  He's a good kid.  Really, he is.  I've been lucky.  He adapted really quite well to being a only child to parents who live in different households.  It's gotta be tough on him, not knowing or remembering who's house he's sleeping at because it changes daily.  In our mind, it's fairly standard....Sunday, Monday, Thursday, Friday nights he is with Mommy and the rest of the time he's with Daddy.  But for Q, it's here and there and here and there.  He's way more resilient than I give him credit for.  It always breaks my heart a little when he asks, "Where am I sleeping tonight, Mommy?"

The thought of one week here and one week there breaks my heart.  I can't even imagine not seeing him for a whole week.  As difficult as it would be for me, I think it would be hard on him too. 

He doesn't have brothers or sisters who *understand* what it's like to be shuttled back and forth from home to home.  No one to commiserate with and talk about how much it sucks when so-and-so happens.  I try to get him to talk about how he feels but he just shrugs his shoulders and says, "I don't know."  What he probably means is "you wouldn't understand".  And I don't.  I know where I'm sleeping every night.  It's the same bed in the same house every single night.  I know where I'm eating dinner, where I'm spending my weekend.  I know this.  It's standard.  For him, it changes all the time.

For this reason, I've been really lenient with Q.  We eat dinner on the couch more than the dinner table.  We go on dates to the movies or bowling more than most kids his age.  And, he sleeps with me. 

Yup.

I know.

It started as a coping mechanism when he was a baby so I could get some flippin' sleep and then one thing led to another and through all the uncertainty, it was certain.  His little hand on my face, the even sound of his breathing (and snoring...), the elbow in my back, the heel dug into my thigh.  What can I say...it's not always fun sharing the bed with a bed-hog seven year old, but it is comforting. 

So I get that he has to sleep in his own bed, and I get that it has to happen soon.  We've been looking for beds, have his room all set up...just waiting for a bed. 

But...

We've been having a whole lot of troubling behaviour lately.  The most upsetting was last night when he didn't get his way, so he wound up and punched me in the back of the head (closed fist) while I was driving.  Immediately when we got home, I threw him in his room and called his dad.  Q is supposed to be going to a B.C. Lions' football game on his birthday and I thought taking that away would be a perfect punishment. 

His dad (the retard) says we need to sit down and talk about his behaviour and what we can do to change it.  I'm like, dude...we don't need to sit down and discuss anything.  We need to take something away from him.  I don't need a pow wow with you, I need you to help me discipline him.  He didn't think that punishing him was the *right* thing to do and he needed to *think* about it.  He says to me, "See.  This is why I'm sending him down the street to play with these other kids.  They're so well behaved and they're teaching Q how to behave."  I'm like, dude....it's not the kid down the street's responsibility to teach our child how to behave.  It's OURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

So I hang up on his dad.  (We remember I'm PMS-ing, right????  Ya.)

I go talk to Q.  I settle on no bunny rabbit, no iPhone for two weeks, and no Lego Ninjagos.  HE was more upset with the punishment than the fact that he had punched me.  But I've read two things recently about this...1.  Boys get a surge of testosterone when they're two and when they're seven.  My girlfriends son started talking like he was Rambo when he turned two..."I STUBBED MY TOE.  I'M THIRSTY.  I WANT SOME MILK."  It was hilarious.  I think Q is going through a surge of testosterone and doesn't really know how to deal constructively with the aggression that comes with it.  Secondly, children do not get *empathy* until they are well into the age of 7.  They don't understand that their actions affect how other people feel.  They don't understand the concept. 

So, I have to move Q into his own bed.  I have to teach him boundaries.  I have to teach him is actions have consequences.  I have to discipline when ding dong in the other house has no intentions of supporting me.  He wants to be the fun parent, the parent who says, "Don't do that, k?" and gets results.  Basically, I'm a lone enforcer.  He goes to daddy's, does what he likes - comes home and gets mean mommy.  He said that to me...You are a mean, mean mommy.

Here's the lesson, kids.  Before you procreate with anyone, make sure you have similar ideas on parenting.  It makes it SOOOOOO much easier.  If you can actually test your theories out on other people's kids...even better.  Mr. Ex agreed with me on every parenting ideal until we actually had a child.  Then he didn't want to parent at all.  He just wants to be Disneyland daddy.  So test 'em out.  Make sure they walk the walk.  Make sure they're not bluffing.

In the meantime....any words of advice?  Can anyone relate?  Misery loves company so if your babes are acting out too, I'd love to hear about it...and even more, I'd love to hear how you're coping.

Here's a great read. I'm going to go through all my boxes, find it and read it again....

 

Read this one too!!